


Winter Warmth

by Aerilon452



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A/U, F/M, Post Season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 14:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12037413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerilon452/pseuds/Aerilon452
Summary: Tormund and Brienne keep each other warm.





	Winter Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for Game of Thrones. I own nothing, just playing.

Brienne of Tarth – Lady Brienne of Tarth from the Sapphire Isle. Oh, how she hated it when people, including Podrick, called her Lady. She wasn’t one and she never would be. Even if she had such designs, there would be no acceptance for her, not since she’d taken a lover her world would disapprove of. Tormund Giantsbane, a Wildling, one of the Free Folk, and a man from beyond the Wall. If her eyes weren’t so heavy with exhaustion, she would have looked at him. As it was, the surprisingly gentle caress of his fingers had a calming effect on her, lulling her into a deep sleep.

Tormund couldn’t believe where he was. He was stretched out in a bed covered with furs next to the towering beauty, Brienne. This cold winter night had brought him what he wanted; her. She was next to him, the blankets down around her hips, leaving the rest of her bare to his eyes. And he devoured every inch of her over and over. In a lazy manner, Tormund traced the tip of his finger back and forth over her left breast. For being a battle hardened woman, she had silky flesh that he couldn’t stop touching. For as long as he had her, he wouldn’t stop touching her as she deserved. “Why choose this life?” he asked.

Brienne groaned, rubbing at her tired eyes. With great effort she rolled to her side, bring her hand up so that her fingers could play with the tip of his beard. As she did so, she answered, “Because no other would suit me. I’m not cut out to be a Lady.” She was bred for battle. Yearned for the sounds of sword clashing against shield. It had been her lullaby as a babe, and it would be her song through all the days of her life. 

“Good,” Tormund grunted. He rested his hand on her side, his fingers rubbing back and forth. 

“Why is that good?” Brienne responded, dropping her hand down to his chest. 

“You were built to fight,” Tormund said. From the first moment he set eyes upon her, he knew she had a Wildling spirit.

“I guess you would know,” Brienne muttered.

“Yes, I would,” Tormund confirmed. He’d been fighting all of his life. White Walkers. The Dead. Crows. All of those fights, the battles, had served to make him stronger, to help him survive.

From the confines of this room, the bed, Brienne felt free. She moved astride him again, reveling in the feeling of being on top. As a proud man from beyond the wall, she didn’t think he would so readily accept her in the dominant position. They’d passionately battled for it, but in the end, she won. Brienne saw the fire in his eyes, the telltale thrill he liked her where she was. “What else was I built for?”

Tormund chuckled, a sound filled with pleasure. He brought his hands up, covering her perfect handful breasts. Her pert nipples pressed into his rough palms. “You’re doin it now.” While she mulled over his words, he took that moment to roll her beneath him. Tormund took her wrists, pinning them above her head. Like he knew she would; she fought him. He chuckled, pleasure racing through his blood once more. 

Brienne struggled, halfheartedly, against his hold. It was stirring up her excitement again, to the point she needed him inside her. She felt him harden in response to her mock resistance. Brienne bit her bottom lip, shifting so he was at the right angle to take her. She was shocked when he let her go, and slid down between her parted thighs. Brienne couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her when she felt his tongue slip between her nether lips. She pushed her head back into the pillow as she brought her right hand down, threading her fingers through his cap of ginger hair. His tongue worked her in a way she never thought possible. She bit her bottom lip to keep her cries muffled. It was late, Winterfell was silent. She wouldn’t risk drawing attention to her chamber.

Tormund was ravenous for his yellow haired lady. Greedily, he drove his tongue into her tasting his seed and her juices from their earlier play. The sound of her stifled cries, and the way she gouged her short nails into his scalp spurred him on. He swirled the tip of his tongue around the sensitive bud, sending her into a pleasure induced spasms. With another flick of his tongue, she tightened her thighs, holding him in place. Tormund made sure he sent Brienne spilling over the edge, drinking deep from her body. After long seconds she released the hold she had on his hair. 

Brienne couldn’t think, couldn’t separate all the sensations coursing through her body. The only thing she was aware of was Tormund moving. She felt the thick hair of his beard brushing the flesh of her stomach. Every time he moved, he placed a biting kiss to her quivering body, and it only served to enflame her passions more. She liked the way he sank his teeth into her playfully. She liked the feel of his body against hers. She liked in a way she never thought possible. He was a Wildling and she, as much as she hated to admit it, was a high born Lady. What was growing between them shouldn’t work, and yet it was. Odd, as she found it. She enjoyed having him in every way she could think of. 

Tormund held himself above Brienne, waiting for her to open her eyes. Until she did, he contented himself with admiring the rosy glow coloring her cheeks. He put that blush there when no other man had been capable of claiming the tall, yellow haired beauty. Now that he had her, he didn’t want anyone but her. “Let me see those gorgeous blue eyes of yours,” Tormund whispered, his tone sounding more like a growl than anything. Her eyes reminded him of a clear winter morning. 

Brienne didn’t know why she was obeying him. Yet, she found herself opening her eyes to look at him. He had a wickedness lighting his gaze that she licked her lips in response. “More…” she said, bringing her knees up. He needed no more prompting. Brienne sucked in a sharp breath when Tormund pushed into, filling her. She draped her right arm over his shoulder, fingers digging into his muscles. Then she turned the tables on him, again. She took him to the bed beneath her, pinning his hands above his head. 

“Ooh…” Tormund moaned. “Now I’m the lucky man.” As strong as she was, he could evenly match her. He sat up and placed his hands to her hips. Excitement was racing through him as she graced him with a wickedly sensual smirk. That look lanced right through him, making him harder than before. With his hands on her hips, he urged her to start moving.

Brienne brought her hands up, threading her fingers into his wild ginger hair, and yanked his head back. She felt the growl rumbling in his chest. Because of her red haired wildling, she found she liked using her strength on him, getting him to submit to her. It added a thrill to their encounter that she never thought she’d ever experience. Delighting in her dominance, she ground down on him.

Tormund felt fire spread through him. His yellow haired beauty rode him like a prized stallion. With each move of her hips, she brought him closer to spilling himself inside her again. She felt it too. He could tell in the way she clamped down on him. Each time she moved, he moved with her. He hit the spot inside her that would make her scream his name. 

Brienne could feel it, the building pressure deep inside her. Before she gave voice to her release, she sealed her lips to his. Her body took over, instinctually knowing what she had to do. When she ground down on him, that triggered her orgasm. His movements didn’t stop. He rolled them so that he was on top thrusting into her. It served to make her release stronger. 

Tormund kept himself mated to Brienne, feeling the way she milked him for every last drop of his seed. He continued to kiss her, to drink down her moans. She tasted better than any ale, or wine that could pass his lips. Seconds later, her body loosened her grip on him, and reluctantly he slipped free from her velvety depths. He stretched out beside her, propping himself up to stare at her. 

Brienne was worn out, bone deep, and completely satisfied. She barely had the strength to pull the fur blanket up to cover her rapidly cooling flesh. A light moan escaped her. “I could sleep for days…” she mumbled, laughing lightly.

“Then do it,” Tormund replied, leaning in to place a kiss to her flushed cheek. “I’ll stay right here and watch over you.” He watched her breathing even out, letting him know that she’d fallen into sleep. For as long as he could manage it, he was going to stay awake and watch her.

 

MORNING:

 

Brienne woke in her bed, in her chamber given to her by Lady Sansa. She stretched, her back arching, her spine popping. This morning she felt good. Better than she could ever remember feeling. And it was because of Tormund. Rolling to her side, she saw him still asleep. For a hard man, he looked peaceful in deep slumber. Brienne didn’t want to wake him. She gathered one of the fur blankets around her body and got up from the bed. 

Over by the window, Brienne looked out on the winter morning. Dawn had just broken over the horizon giving her enough light to see out over the lands of Winterfell. It was a beautiful snow covered landscape, and from the warmth of her room, quite peaceful. Except, the peace wouldn’t last. Not since the Night King was on the move. That put a damper on her morning glow. 

Then something caught Brienne’s eye; a rider coming closer to the keep. She saw a flash of gold and knew immediately who it was. It was Jaime Lannister. Brienne looked over at her bed, at Tormund. She sighed, and smiled in spite of everything. The smile was because of him. Padding back over to the bed, she leaned over and placed a kiss to his brow. This gesture didn’t rouse him, and she was glad for that. 

Brienne was wide awake, and there would be no going back to sleep, even as inviting as Tormund’s warmth was. Someone had to be down at the gate to greet Jaime, and it would be better if it was a friendly face. Quickly, she dressed in heavy winter clothing, foregoing her armor, and laced up her boots.

At the door, Brienne gave Tormund one last look. In the span of time it had taken her to dress, he had rolled over and pulled the fur blanket over his head. The sight of him made her reluctant to leave. It was warm in that bed next to him. She had to make herself leave. 

Down in the courtyard, Brienne nodded sharply to the two guards on duty. Sharply, she ordered, “Open the gate.” Obediently, the hopped to it. Though, they were eager to move just to warm up. The old wood of the door groaned in the cold weather. Once they were wide enough, Brienne strode through them where she met Ser Jaime Lannister; the Kingslayer.

Jaime was relieved when the doors to Winterfell opened for him. Due to the plummeting temperatures that came with winter, he hadn’t been entirely sure that the Raven he dispatched at made it. When he saw Brienne, he was put at ease. Since Cersei had gone back on her word to send aide to the North, he took it upon himself to take the Lannister forces and do what was right. “Lady Brienne, fine morning isn’t it?” he asked.

“It was, Ser Jaime, until I had to come out here,” Brienne replied, trying to hide her smirk. 

“Oh,” Jaime shrugged, and then dismounted from his horse. Handing the reigns over to the unimpressive North man, he came closer to the tall imposing blonde. “Was there something else you’d rather be doing?”

“Sleeping under nice warm furs,” Brienne replied without missing a beat. Then she turned to lead them inside. By now, the kitchen staff would be awake, and getting the fires started. It would be the warmest room in all of Winterfell.

Jaime trailed after Brienne, noticing that she was different than when he had last seen her in Kingslanding. What was it? Outwardly, her appearance was still fierce. There was something though. He couldn’t help from commented on it. “You seem… changed.” 

Brienne looked at him over her shoulder, the sound of their boots echoing off the stone walls. There was something different about her. It was Tormund. He was currently up in her chamber, where she would have liked to be. Though, she wasn’t about to admit that to him. Sadly, someone had to be with Jaime. He was still a Lannister, and for all intents and purposes…. The enemy. So, instead she said, “His Grace, Jon Snow, should be down soon. He would like to be apprised of the number of men you brought.” 

No one was around. No one would see Jaime Lannister be playful with Brienne of Tarth. “Is it a man I’m keeping you from?” side stepping her, he placed himself in front of Brienne to halt her movements down the corridor. And there it was. Her disapproving scowl, but she didn’t have any ill intent behind the look. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I’m sure there is some breakfast warmed up by now,” Brienne stated. 

“Tell me I’m right, and we can go to the kitchen.” Jaime wheedled. 

“Ser Jaime…” Brienne huffed.

“Lady Brienne…” Jaime replied. “See, I can play this game too.”

Brienne sighed, pushing open the doors to the dining hall. There, she came up short when she spotted Lady Sansa, and the chosen King of the North; Jon Snow. “Your Grace, my Lady,” she inclined her head in due deference. 

Jon fought hard to contain his immediate disgust at having Jaime Lannister in his home, near his family. But in the grand scheme of things, even he could set aside hatred in preparation for the greater threat. “Lannister,” he said, motioning both of them to come forward. Next to him, he sensed Sansa’s instant discomfort. She hated the Lannister’s more than he did. Behind them a door opened, and Jon knew without turning around that it was Bran and Arya. The Wolves of Winterfell assembled to face a Lion. 

“Your Grace,” Jaime also bowed his head. There was no benefit to be gained from denying that Jon Snow was King of the North. They had an armistice until the threat from the dead was resolved. He was more than capable of respecting the Stark’s. Time had opened his eyes. “I wasn’t entirely sure the Raven I sent ahead had arrived safely.”

“It did,” Sansa confirmed. 

“Oh, good…” Jaime took a few steps closer to the Stark table, but them something caught his eye. Blood stained the stone floor. “As per our agreement, I arrived with the bulk of the Lannister forces. They are camped with the rest of your men, under orders to respect the truce.”

“You really expect your men to obey? To them, we’re still the enemy,” Jon pointed out.

“They know the penalty for disobedience.” Jaime stated. 

“I’ll expect you to enforce the truce with your men, as I will with mine.” Jon replied.

Sansa stood up, placing her hand on Jon’s shoulder signaling that she was going to take her leave for a few minutes. Then she motioned to Brienne to join her. She knew the Lady-Knight had been working tirelessly for days preparing those who needed more training to fight the dead that would soon be at their gates. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you this, and I want you to know that I appreciate all that you’ve done for me, my sister, and for our people.” 

Brienne inclined her head, “My Lady, I wish to serve you, your family, and the King of the North because I believe in all of you.” At first, her mission had been given to her by Lady Catelyn Stark. But now, she’d come to see the resilience and determination of the children of House Stark. They were finding their place in this world, and Brienne was honored to be part of it. 

“Still,” Sansa said, “I haven’t properly thanked you, and I know there is no way I ever could.”

“There’s no need, My Lady. I serve because I choose to,” Brienne finally found a place to belong, somewhere her honor was satisfied. Winterfell was where she was truly meant to be.

“Even so,” Sansa smiled. “We find ourselves in a rare moment of calm here, and I would like for you to take advantage of it.”

“My Lady…” Brienne started to argue.

“Please, take this morning for yourself to rest, and keep warm.” Sansa could see the toll all of Brienne’s work to fortify Winterfell had taken on her.

Brienne held herself silent, and nodded. There was no use in arguing with Lady Sansa; she was stubborn like her mother. Brienne respected that. “Thank you, My Lady.” Nodding again, she took a few steps back, and then headed for her chamber. She hoped Tormund was still there. She hoped he was still asleep so that she could crawl right back into bed, and savor his warmth.

 

BRIENNE’S CHAMBER:

 

Strange noises woke Tormund from a sound, satisfied sleep. And he was alone. He was just about to get up when the door opened, and his tall, blonde beauty came in. She said nothing as she closed the door, and locked it. He arched his brow, interested in what she had on her mind.

Brienne shed her cloak, and toed off her boots. Crossing the room, she stood beside the bed unlacing the heavy tunic. “This is what a woman likes to come back to; a man naked in her bed.” Tormund gave her one of his looks.

“Is that so?” Tormund asked, standing up in front of her as naked as the day he came into the world. He yanked the heavy clothing down her arms, tossing it to the other side of the room.

“Definitely,” Brienne said, pushing him back down to the bed. She sat astride his lap and kissed him, plundering his mouth with ruthless abandon. Before meeting this Wildling, no matter had looked at her the way he had. No one called her beautiful, and meant it. Tormund did. He meant everything he said to her. His honesty had her giving in to him. In the end, even she needed someone to lean on when the long night finally came, and they were embroiled in a war with the dead.

THE END


End file.
